


Price of Freedom

by bodhirookandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Right?, also bassian because i love them, also bye i wrote on my tumblr about the relationship between chirrut baze and bodhi, and even then he'll be plagued with shit, and that's gonna be a thing in this fic, but he has to make it through all this terrible shit before he can be happy, but they live so that's alright, i love bodhi, i promise you that, i want the best for him, im sad, the beginning is sad, trauma doesn't go away at the drop of a hat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9347381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookandor/pseuds/bodhirookandor
Summary: "They took a lot of things from me," he whispers, eyes cast down so he wouldn't see Cassian's expression, "my pride, my dignity, but they couldn't take away my family. I did that. I did that all on my own." He smiles, but it's jagged, broken off at the edges. Bodhi wonders how long it's been since he truly smiled."Bodhi-""And then a monster came and ripped me a part from the inside. Made me into something else, still me, but not me. And I..." He trails off and looks at Cassian, his eyes wide with tears but he refuses to let them fall. Not here, not now. Placing his hand on Cassian's cheek, Bodhi marvels at the way the other man leans into the contact."I don't know why you would want to be with someone who doesn't even know he's real."





	1. Empty Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Death is a thing in this fic, none of the main characters die but death surrounds them. Which makes sense because you know, they're in a war. There's some allusion to torture in the fic, it's not all that explicit (it's about Vader and his ability to kill people without touching them) but I want to give you guys some heads up. Also, Bodhi hates himself a lot, almost as much as he hates the Empire so that's a thing.

He’s six years old, sitting atop the roof of his home and staring at the imperial ship that hovers menacingly over his city. He sits there, waiting for the last vestiges of night to disappear. As dawn breaks, a stream of imperial soldiers come out, ready to harass, beat and intimidate the local population. He sits there and says nothing at the steadily approaching army ahead of him. He says nothing, but his young face scrunches up in fury and pain and his fingers ball into fists. And something terrible curdles in his stomach.

***  
  
It hits him, on his seventh birthday, staring at the dead body of his best friend Mohammad, that the terrible feeling in his stomach is hate.

***

His mother begs him one morning, her face puffy from a night’s crying, to not get caught up in the war, to not let his beautiful heart become cold with hate. She hugs him close to her chest, pulling the rest of his siblings close to her, as she cries.

“We’ve already lost too much. I cannot bear to lose the three of you.” And Bodhi, whose heart feels as heavy as a herd of bantha, cannot refuse his mother’s plea. He chances a look at his sister and brother and sees a reflection of his own emotions within them. Something warm, yet cold, fills his being and Bodhi wonders if it’d be better for him to walk this path alone.

His sister grabs his hand and squeezes once. Bodhi is glad she’s with him.

  
***

He’s ten and he stands with the rest of his family as they watch their neighbor, Canh, become another sacrifice for the Empire. The only thing stopping Bodhi from jumping to the front of the crowd is his mother’s restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bodhi,” the hand on his shoulder seems to say, its voice as strong as he imagines his father’s to be, “think about your chances. Think about your family. If you make a move now, who would lose?” So, Bodhi watches, his face impassive, as the man that helped raised them is cut down. He’s ten and he likes to believe he knows exactly how this world works. He’s ten and already a heavy burden rests on his shoulders. He places his hand on his mother’s and squeezes once.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, watching as the body of the only father he ever truly knows, falls to the ground, “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.” He’s ten years old and already Bodhi can’t breathe past his rage.

***

He’s sitting on his roof, waiting for the switch between night and day, when his sister sits down next to him. She says nothing for a moment, her face turned to the horizon, a frown playing on her lips until she turns to him. Bodhi is struck by the furious determination that’s etched onto her face.

It makes her look far older than her 13 years.

“I hate them Bodhi. I want to see them burn.” Her voice is hard, rimmed with steel and filled with molten fury. She looks at him for a long moment, her eyes clearly searching for something.

“Asha,” he whispers, his voice coated with just as much passion, “I hate them too.” A twitch of her lips is all Bodhi sees, before she turns to the horizon. Dawn is just breaking and with it, a stream of imperial soldiers ready to take from their home.

“So what are we going to do about it?” She asks, her face illuminated by the soft glowing light. Bodhi draws strength from her and the expression on his face could have been called a grin, but it’s jagged, cut off at the edges.

“We fight,” he says, staring at the imperial soldiers marching into their home, “but we have to fight smart Asha. We can’t have mom and Yusuf be blamed for what we do.” The two of them sit there, taking in the steady destruction of their city and let themselves come to terms with their promise.

***

He’s fourteen when an opportunity presents itself. They had been making strides towards this moment. Late night conversations with other children, winning over anxious young adults, and helping smuggle arms to various members of the community, all comes down to this moment. The day is just like any other; bright, sandy and the bite of wind. Bodhi draws comfort from it, lets it fill his being and soothe some of the ragged bits of his soul.

He’s fourteen when NiJedha becomes a war ground.

His mother tells them that war is a hunger. It feasts and feasts upon violence and destruction, and the desolation of people. It gorges itself upon the misery of civilians. War is hunger, it eats and eats and eats but it is never satisfied.

“War,” his mother tells them, her voice hushed and filled with grief, “is a hunger that can’t ever truly be quenched. Do not let it consume you. Please.”  
War, Bodhi finds, is pain and misery wrapped up in death and decay. It takes and it takes and it takes until all that Bodhi has for himself is his rage and his family. War, he finds, has taken much more from them than they could ever truly afford.

Bodhi stares at his younger brother’s dead body and feels something like shame and guilt constrict his lungs. He didn’t want this for him, didn’t want him to get caught up in the shit he and his sister were in, and yet…The heat of his rage and the frozen tundra that is his guilt fight for dominance within him. He can’t ever truly breathe from that point on.

War takes the most from the innocent.

***

He learns many things in the five years that follow. He learns to temper his tongue, learns to keeps his head down, learns to blank his gaze so his emotions won’t bleed through. He learns that the insurgents aren’t there for him, that they care little for the people that live in NiJedha.

“It’s war,” his sister tells him, her voice hard and detached in ways that make Bodhi’s limbs burn, “it’s war and in war there is only victory. By any means necessary. They don’t care for us. They just want them out.” She spits on the floor, her eyes wild and exhausted all at the same time. Bodhi wants to wrap his sister in a hug, wants to hold her and let her know that he’d be with her always. But he doesn’t because he knows how she’d react.

It’s been a long time since his sister’s been okay with anyone touching her.

He learns something else too, living in a warzone. He learns the gnawing feeling of hunger, knows it intimately. He understands helplessness and the frustrated tears that spring up into anyone eyes when they find out they can’t afford food for the week. Bodhi learns a lot in these five years. And he knows exactly what he has to do to keep his family from starving. A large part of him screams with rage at the possibility, but his more rational side understands the necessity.

Ignoring his sister’s shout and his mother’s crying, Bodhi enlists. He tries comforts himself with the knowledge that now they’d be able to have food, that now he wouldn’t have to hear his mother’s stomach groan with hunger. He tries to comfort himself, but he knows exactly what he’s done, can see it in the way his sister’s eyes scrunch up in disgust. Bodhi’s working for the monster and inadvertently, he too has become a monster.

He finds that he hates himself just as much as he hates the Empire.

***

The Empire is everything and nothing like he thinks it’d be. There’s a sort of detached cleanliness to it that makes his skin itch. Nothing is out of place; everything follows a strict schedule where deviation brings swift and brutal punishment. Kindness, empathy, and compassion are all stomped out, leaving only the bitter reminder of hate and death. Bodhi wonders what is says about him that he finds himself able to survive in such an environment. Wonders if it means that his heart had already become cold with hate and rage. He tells himself that he doesn’t really care. That’s a lie.

The first time he’s punished, it’s because he stopped an imperial officer from killing “an enemy combatant.” Said combatant is a young child, barely the age of 9. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he’s in front of the child, his face pressed against the raised blaster. He stands there, gaze burning as he dares the officer to shoot him, to show dissent among the imperial forces. Bodhi knows they won’t do it, knows that they prefer to take care of people like him behind closed doors within the Empire. He takes advantage of it, and stands there, his arms open wide and his eyes mocking, until the child runs away, safe and hidden among the local population.

‘It’s okay,’ he thinks himself to himself, eyes flashing with distant pleasure as the officer clicks his tongue in annoyance. The rush of fear and vindictive glee stays with him even as they take him to receive punishment.

They don’t punish him often, despite his initial outburst and defiance in front of the Empire, Bodhi does little to truly gain their ire. He toes the line between outright disobedience and annoyance, knowing that one false move could mean not only his death but the death of his family. The Empire, for all its intelligence, has yet to truly dampen Bodhi’s rage and his passion. That is until, he meets him.

Deep rasps of air out of a ventilated mask. That’s all he can truly remember. That, and the feeling of choking on air. Dark and then bright with artificial light as a monster rises from nothing and shows him how terrible the Force can truly be.

“The Force,” Uncle Arun says, his voice as grave as a silent night, “can be as terrible as it is great. All you can do is go about your life and understand that sometimes terrible things happen to good people.”

Bodhi wonders if he should have died the night he was “disciplined” by a monster in a mask. He wonders why the Empire let him live at all. Until of course, they remind him of what he’s there for.

“Your family,” and imperial officer (the same one he’d deterred on his first mission for the Empire) sneers, his pale face, red with repressed emotion, “they’re the reason you’re working for us right?” Bodhi doesn’t answer, won’t answer, because he knows already. He knows what this man will say to him and he feels a little bit of his old rage simmering to the surface, ready and willing to lash out at the man in front of him.

“It would be such a shame if they were killed. Jedha is a warzone you know?” Bodhi fights to keep his rage down, fights against the urge to wipe off the disgusting smirk on the man’s face. He works to keep his hands still and his face impassive. It works, but they know they have him. He can’t do anything, not with his family on the line.

Bodhi wishes he could be as brave as his sister.

***

He uses the things he’s learned, living in a war-torn city. His head stays down, his mouth stays closed, and there’s no more interactions with the local populations whenever he goes on missions. He doesn’t look them in the eye, knowing exactly what will be staring back at him: disgust, pain, desperation, despair. They’re all he sees whenever he looks at himself in the mirror. Bodhi tries to remind himself that he can’t save anybody, that lashing out and striking out at an officer that’s harassing a man and his family will do nothing but bring his family harm. He can’t do anything.

The justifications taste like sand.

He goes on like this for a while, his shame and his guilt mixing with his rage, leaving him breathless and trapped. His eyes, once full of life and passion become dull with numerous nights of interrupted sleep. His best friends become caf and a notebook he procured from one of his missions. On the inside pages of the notebook Bodhi writes a list of names. Names of every single civilian he’s seen brought down by the Empire, a list of names of every single system he’s gone to that’s under Empire influence. At the bottom of the page, he puts the name of his family, his brother’s name bringing tears to his eyes. Days blur together, the list of names in his notebook the only indication of time passing. Bodhi wonders if he can continue going on like this. He wonders if he’d be able to keep letting things go the way they’re going if it meant his family survived. He stares at his sister’s name, his mind flashing back to the way her eyes gleamed with furious determination.

“What would you do?” He asks, although knowing no answer will come.

***

Galen Erso, a scientist working for the Empire, confronts him one day on his way to his ship. The man is polite, introducing himself to Bodhi and engaging in small talk. Bodhi, who at this point has never had any friends, only acquaintances and people whose money he’d win, is slightly suspicious and more than a little guarded. Kindness and compassion is firmly looked down upon and a scientist of Mr. Erso’s (call me Galen that man had said, Bodhi refuses on principle) status could never have risen the ranks by being polite. Bodhi knows something is wrong, but a part of him, the more reckless part of him, the one that at age 14 had decided that he was old enough to be a part of a war, is intrigued. Bodhi finds himself paying more and more attention to the scientist that willingly spoke with the cargo pilots, wondering what it was about him that caught the man’s interest.

It doesn’t take long for Bodhi to hear what the man wants. The words are heavy between them as Erso calmly explains, in excruciating detail, exactly what it is that he is helping build. Bodhi sits there, and listens, as the man attempts to dig into the guilt stashed away in Bodhi’s soul, attempts to bring forth his shame. And while he feels a stirring of both emotions, all Bodhi feels at that point, listening to a monster outline the schematics of a weapon that he created for another monster, is rage. Pure, unadulterated rage courses through him. It sings in his veins, cocoons him in a bed of warmth and familiarity. Bodhi feels like the same child he was once before, the one that wouldn’t hesitate to join the resistance with his sister, the one whose hate had never truly tempered with age. He takes the encrypted device that Erso hands him, listening intently as the man explains who and where he is supposed to take the information. He walks to his ship, looking for all intents and purposes like a man whose just been assigned a routine mission.

‘I’m sorry momma,’ he thinks, flying towards his city, a message in his pocket that would help bring down the Empire and his rage carefully tucked into his heart, ‘I’m sorry but I’m not going to be able to keep my promise.’


	2. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one believes Bodhi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...we get into the start of the events of the film. Bodhi, by the end of the chapter is introduced to Gerrera and is forced to see Bor Gullet (so the last scene has hints of torture). Also Tivik (the guy Cassian shoots at the beginning of the movie) is here and I've decided that Bodhi searched him out...for reasons that won't be explained until much later in the story. I hope you guys enjoy and leave a comment :) Thanks everyone who's done so already!

_He’s seventeen, watching as his mother tends to his sister’s wounds. The air between them is thick, hard to breathe around as though a plastic bag had blanketed the area. No one speaks, the only sound to be heard is distant gunshots and the soft clink! of glass hitting a steel bowl. Finally, after some time, his mother speaks._

_“I understand,” she begins, her voice sharp like a serrated tooth; it cuts through the silence between the three of them with ease. Bodhi suppresses his flinch. “I understand that you’re angry. I’m angry too. But please, please don’t lose your life over this.” She breathes deep, closing her eyes a moment before opening them and continuing to remove glass from his sister’s arm. Bodhi swallows once, and turns his head to stare out the window. His fingers flutter along the edge of the table and he sighs._

_“You always told us to follow what we believed was right. You and dad. We can’t stop now.” His sister whispers, her head bowed. Her voice is soft, a stark contrast to her normally strong and resolute tone. It breaks slightly as she attempts to hold in sobs and Bodhi feels a piece of him break, shatter along the floor, never to be recovered again. He stays silent, even as his mother goes to comfort his older sister._

_“And Bodhi?” He turns, taking in the way his mother and sister stare at him. Their large brown eyes bore into his own, seeing past his calm and collected visage to the angry and terrified boy underneath. They’d always been able to see it in him, see him for what he truly is._

_“Yes?”_

_“Don’t compromise yourself, your morals, because of this war. Don’t lose the bit of light that you have.” His mother pleads; her mouth wobbles and Bodhi knows she’s holding back tears. She won’t ever let them fall. She hasn’t for a long time, not since she had to bury her youngest child._

_“I promise,” he whispers, standing up and engulfing his mother in a hug. He lets himself bask in it, sinking into her warm and loving embrace. In another world, he imagines himself able to hug his mother more often, imagines a world where his family is complete and the influence of the Empire is not a threat. He imagines a world where he could just be with his family without worrying about death and hunger. He imagines. But it doesn’t do him any good._

_In war, there is only harsh reality and upsetting truths._

***

He moves, with all the confidence of a local, through the crowd, his eyes searching. It takes him a minute to find him, pushed to the back of the crowd as he is. Bodhi breathes deep, dredges up what he imagines is his courage, and hurries over to the man. He sits, making sure to keep his back to the wall and his body close to the exit. It takes him a moment to speak, his eyes roving over the bar’s occupants.

“Are you Tivik?” He asks, although knowing the answer already. The man turns to him, his eyes as hard as his own; as hard as any Jedha native.

Bodhi pretends he doesn’t see the flare of recognition in the man’s eyes.

“Depends,” the man drawls, his hand casually playing with the blaster on his waist, “who wants to know?” Bodhi doesn’t speak for a second, quickly glancing around the room a second time. No one has paid any attention to the either of them, each occupant engrossed in their respective drinks.

“A Jedha native and a man with a message.” He says, forcing his hand still. A couple feet away from him, a man rises and makes his way towards them. Another, turns to their direction. They’re trying to surround him.

“And what message could you possibly have for me?”

“Not for you, but your boss, Saw Gerrera. And, your… _other_ boss.” Bodhi says, making sure to keep his voice calm and steady. He can’t afford to show weakness. Not in front of this man. Not in front of anyone. Not ever again.

Tivik attempt to hide his surprise is good, but Bodhi has always been able to read other people. It’s a handy skill that has saved him more than once.

“Tell your boss that the Empire is building a weapon. A planet destroyer. Tell your boss that if he doesn’t act, there will be nothing anyone can do to stop them.” Bodhi turns to him for the first time since their conversation, his eyes wide, imploring the man to understand.

Tivik’s eyes widen before settling back to its normal half lidded position. He leans back into his seat, scrutinizing Bodhi, checking for any hint of validity (or dishonesty) in his claim. Bodhi remains still, hoping to appear as honest as he is.

 _“You need to calm down, breathe your anxiety through your nose and expel it out your mouth.”_ His sister’s voice tells him, hard and encouraging all at once. Bodhi feels a part of him relaxing even as the rest of him is uncomfortably aware of the people slowly converging on their position. He breathes in deep, expelling his nervous energy with an exhale, all the while maintaining eye contact with Tivik.

Tivik laughs, fake and nausea inducing, clasping Bodhi on the shoulder. He can’t help the slight flinch he gives and is sure the man has caught it.

“Why don’t you just tell that to my friends over there and we’ll get this straightened out hmm?” The man says, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. Bodhi knows exactly what he means and he breathes deep. Fear slices through him like the wind, unforgiving and strong. It clashes with his familiar hot rage, rising to a crescendo within Bodhi until he can’t breathe past it. Bearing his teeth at the man, Bodhi grabs the nearest object in his hand (a beer bottle he finds out later) and smashes it on the man’s head, delivering a swift kick to the man’s arm. He doesn’t revel in the man’s pained shout as his arm breaks.

From then it’s chaos, one Bodhi isn’t so sure he’d be able get out of. He pushes other patrons out of the way, inciting fights and vanishing into the crowd with all the familiarity of a man who’s lived his life surrounded by violence. 

***

_“You’re terrible at this,” Asha states, her eyes crinkled in humor. Bodhi groans from his position on the floor and huffs out a laugh. She holds out a hand and Bodhi clasps it, rising to his feet with a groan of pain._

_“We can’t all be as great as you are at fighting,” he tells her, a smile lifting at the corner of his mouth. It grows when he catches the answering twitch of his sister’s lips._

_“Well, we can’t all be a mechanical genius,” she counters, the two of them falling into an argument they’ve had dozens of times. Bodhi relishes moments like these, where they can push back the threat of the Empire and the destruction of their home for a minute and just focus on being a family. A piece of him, one that he thought long dead, twinges in response._

_“Let’s do this again. Listen to me carefully Bodhi,” his sister begins, her body crouching down low and relaxed, “you’re never going to be able to outright overpower someone. Fight smart, fight low, and you use their strength against them,” with that, his sister runs at him, her eyes narrowed with determination._

_Bodhi, with an answering grin lighting up his fifteen-year-old face, waits for the moment to strike._

*** 

They surround him just as he makes his way out of the bar. Bodhi grits his teeth and plants his feet, his eyes flitting from face to face. His rage, a constant companion, slithers into his veins and warms him. Bodhi waits, his body loose. In the corner of his eye, he sees Tivik cradling his arm and staring wide eyed at Bodhi’s surrounded form.

Bodhi breathes once. Twice.

He’s not going to make it out of this. He knows. A large part of him, the child who rages as much as he loves, screams out in denial, urges him to go down swinging. Another part of him, fueled primarily by snow covered guilt and sharp, wind-like fear, urges him to go peacefully. Urges him to think about it rationally, that perhaps they would get him to Gerrera.

They swarm him and Bodhi reacts on instinct.

He ducks, narrowly missing the chop to the back of his head. He kicks out, hitting one of the insurgents in the knees. The man lets out a grunt as he’s forced to his feet and Bodhi kicks him in the head, instantly knocking him out. They grab his arms, punching him in quick succession. Bodhi doesn’t let that deter him, doesn’t let the way his eyes go dark stop him from continuing to fight. He kicks out blindly, managing to hit another one in the stomach.

It’s getting harder to breathe.

They keep punching him, his arms, his legs, his face, until Bodhi can no longer hold himself upright. They grab a fistful of his hair, and speak directly at him. Bodhi finds himself babbling, his fear and rage mixing in his gut as he spits out the truth.

“It’s a planet killer! And you need to take this to Saw Gerrera, or we’ll all be dead.” Bodhi, in that moment, doesn’t care if others hear him, doesn’t care if word will spread. That way, perhaps information will get to Gerrera faster. One of the insurgents punch him in the mouth. He tastes blood and Bodhi is quick to spit it at the insurgent pulling on his hair. He, slowly, almost cautiously, pulls out the encrypted device Erso had entrusted to him, and hands it over to one of them.

“That contains the information you need to give to Gerrera.” He says, his voice as strong as kyber. The insurgents stare at each other, and without a word, one of them pulls a bag over his head. The last thing Bodhi sees before he’s engulfed in darkness is Tivik’s retreating form.

They don’t believe him; fear and anger bring tears to his eyes. Tears he won’t let fall.

***

They drag him through the desert, not letting up even as he stumbles more than once. He can hear their frustration, can feel it in how their grip on his arms tightens after each time he trips. His irritation mounts with each tug on his arms, it simmers under the surface as they practically haul him somewhere. He hopes it’s to Gerrera, although a more pessimistic side of him thinks they’re hauling him to his death. A part of him finds that he doesn’t care. The rest of him is terrified for his family. But that has always been true for him, that deep, soul rendering fear has always stuck with him. Bodhi hopes he makes it to them before the Empire figures out that it’s _he_ who defected. A small part of him tells him he won’t make it, that it’s ridiculous of him to think he ever _could_. Bodhi tries his best to not think about it.

They continue to walk through the desert. Seconds blend into minutes, minutes turn into hours, and hours become millennia. It feels as though they’ve been walking for miles, his steps slowing as exhaustion and dehydration pull on his aching limbs. The insurgents around him continue walking, as though they’re not beholden to the same fatigue Bodhi is. As though they could continue this for several more hours.

After a while they stop, throwing him harshly to his knees. Gasping quietly, Bodhi clenches his teeth against the pain. He doesn’t hear the slowly approaching footsteps, but he does hear the deep rattled breath, the almost mechanical inhale and he freezes.

***

_Deep rasps of air out of a ventilated mask. That’s all he can truly remember. That, and the feeling of choking on air. Dark and then bright with artificial light as a monster rises from nothing and shows him how terrible the Force can truly be._

***

Sweat drips down his face as he struggles to breathe. He opens and closes his mouth, desperately trying to get the words out. They stick in his throat, choking him. The monster in front of him inhales a second time and Bodhi flinches, hard.

“You-You don’t understand,” he begins, his voice just shy of begging, “I _have_ to get this to Saw Gerrera. Lives are at stake!” His mask is removed and Bodhi recoils at the bright shine of light. He blinks once. Twice. His mind still trapped behind dark monsters and deep rasps. It takes him a moment to register that the man in front of him is not the monster in black, the one who’s capable of instilling fear into the hearts of many without moving a muscle. It takes him a moment to realize he’s not back in the Empire, but in front of the very man he’s been looking for.

“You’re Bodhi Rook? A native boy?” Gerrera asks, holding up Bodhi’s imperial identification. His voice crunches against Bodhi’s eardrums like gravel. It unsettles something fundamental within him and it’s all Bodhi can do not to flinch.

The insurgents around him start speaking, twisting a tale of his capture and their subsequent gain of an encrypted device. His anger slices through his ice-cold fear like a hot blade and Bodhi can’t help but snap.

“I understand what you’re saying! They didn’t give it to you! I-I gave it to them. I’m here for you.” He pauses, taking in the man’s apathetic stare. Bodhi speaks faster because he knows, he _knows_ what it looks like to not be believed.

‘Please, believe me,’ he thinks, his eyes wide and beseeching.

“They’ve built a planet destroyer. Galen Erso sent me. He told me to find you, told me that you would know what to do! I defected. _I defected_.” Gerrera’s face doesn’t change, his eyes boring into Bodhi’s own brown orbs. They stare at each other for a minute, Bodhi hoping against hope that the man in front of him would listen to him. That the man whose exploits he used to listen to fervently would understand what Bodhi is attempting to achieve. He hopes, although a large part of him, the part that’s grown up surrounded by suspicious adults and battle hardened children, knows he won’t be believed.

He still hopes, even though he knows his hope is foolish.

“Bor Gullet,” Gerrera says, his voice grave and his eyes staring past him. The phrase instills a fear deep into Bodhi’s bones, even though he has no idea what type of torture it is. And he’s positive it’s torture, there’s no other outcome for someone like him. He struggles against the restraining grip on arms as the insurgents take him away.

“You have to believe me!” He shouts, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. “You have to believe me! Galen Erso sent me to you! He told me you would know what to do! I defected! I _defected_! Please! Please believe me!” They drag him away, his pleas falling on deaf ears.

He tells the truth, and not a single person cares to believe him.

***

They strap him down to a chair, their hands rough, and their entire countenance practically screaming with indifference. Bodhi attempts to explain to them the urgency of the matter, the need for them to understand exactly what is going to happen. But they continue their task, continuing as though they care little for what he has to say.

And maybe they do not.

“No lie is safe,” Gerrera rasps, his face seen through the prison window. Bodhi jerks once and breathes harshly through his fear. The man is not moved at all. “What have you really brought me, cargo pilot? Bor Gullet will know the truth.” A giant purple thing writhes into existence, rising from the shadows and edging its way towards him. Fear grips his senses, freezing and electric all at once, as tentacles slowly make their way up his body.

“The unfortunate side effect,” Gerrera muses, his head tilted to the side, as though he’s studying Bodhi’s horror-struck frame, “is that one tends to lose their minds.” Bodhi gasps, as tentacles caress his face, leaving slimy, sticky, cold residue along their wake. He cries out as it wraps around his head, a deep-seated feeling of _wrongness_ filling him. He's suspended in that moment, everything and nothing blending until all he can feel is the monster's bruising grip on his body, until all he can hear is its quiet rumbling. Something cracks within him, leaving behind a gaping hole of who he is, of who he  _thinks_ he is.

“Don’t,” he doesn’t care that his voice breaks, doesn’t care that it makes him seem weak, he just wants the man to _understand_ , “don’t do this. Please.” He whispers even though he knows, intellectually, that the man won’t even try.

Tentacles wrap around him and all Bodhi knows is pain. 


	3. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes and it takes and it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry for the chapter. It's...sad. I'm sad. Second off, thanks for all of the comments! No joke, every time I get a new comment I grin for like a whole week. I also keep rereading them. I'm weird. If you wanna talk to me about the fic, you can see me @bodhirookandor on tumblr :) Content Warning: Bor Gullet and the torture that Bodhi goes through. The name of the poem used here is Hope Against Hope by Shakir Shujaabadi.

Once upon a time, there is a boy. Sweet and young, he looks around the world with wide eyed innocence. The sun shines within him, the moon bursts into stars behind his eyes. He’s naturally bright, happiness and love filling the world around him.

_“The Force,” his mother tells him, her large brown eyes shimmering like gold, “is a beautiful thing. It brings us together, creating little ribbons of connection between us.” She grins, her eyes crinkling and laugh lines visible._

_“So long as you shall live, I will be there with you,” she says, her hand coming up to rest upon his head._

_“Believe in it my son, and all will be well.”_

***

He twitches, a scream tearing through his throat as the monster delves deeper into his psyche, ripping him apart from the inside, leaving behind tatters in its wake.

***

Once upon a time, there is a boy, filled with rage and wanting to destroy the sun. His eyes are narrowed, always and forever more. His lips curl into a snarl and his hands ball into fists. Darkness and artificial light cling to him, mixing and matching all at once, turning him into something he’s not. Something he shouldn’t be. Something everyone wishes he wouldn’t be, but knows is just a side effect of living as they are.

_His sister stares at him, her eyes unreadable._

_“I hate them,” she whispers, her voice as passionate as his own, “but you’re letting your hate consume you.” She reaches out to him, slow and deliberate. Her hand hovers above his, until she draws it away. She can’t bear to touch him, can’t bear to touch anyone ever again._

_“Hope against hope should never end,” she murmurs, the words easily flowing through her lips, “the beloved should never be defamed.” He remains silent, stubbornly refusing to finish the poem. He stares at the steadily approaching army, his mouth set into a line._

_She sighs, brown eyes just as dull as his own._

_“Tonight he made this final vow: May this evening never end.”_

***

He’s pleading, whispering, mumbling, shouting, babbling. Words tumble out of his lips, incoherent and desperate. He’s there, but not there, trapped behind an infinite amount of realities.  
  
***  
  
Once upon a time, there is a boy, who’s as curious as he is stubborn. Who seeks to learn all that he can about the world. Who finds joy in discovering the undiscovered. There is a boy who seeks, and learns, and shares; whose unbridled passion brings forth matching enthusiasm.

_Canh sits him down one day, his smile shining with the force of the sun._

_“In the endless expanse that is space and the infinite number of dimensions, I’m glad to have you for a son. Your mother, worry wart that she is, thinks I’ll fill your head with all sorts of ideas. But I won’t do that. The whole point is for you to find out for yourself!” Canh laughs, boyish and charming all at once. He copies him, his missing teeth prominent in his grin._

_"I wanna learn how to fly a ship!” He says, his eyes lighting up and laughter bubbling inside him. “I wanna see the stars with my own eyes! I wanna be an adventurer, like in the stories!” Canh smiles softly, grabbing him and swinging him once in the air, setting off a stream of laughter._

_“I promise you, you’ll see the stars. Even if it takes me stealing a ship to do it. I promise you, you’ll get to fly.” Canh holds out a pinky, his mouth twitching. Their pinkies intertwine and a promise is made._

***

Something snaps inside of him, whatever that’s been holding him together finally unravelling under the monster’s tentacles. He screams once before it’s cut off, his eyes seeing but not seeing. He can hear, but he _can’t_ hear. He can feel, but he _can’t_ feel. He’s floating, drifting between the edges of the Force, lost in the ruined bits that used to be his mind.

***

Once upon a time, there is a boy; who wishes and wants and believes. There is a boy who doesn’t trust in his strength, who thinks he’s nothing more than a coward. There is a boy who sacrifices everything for his family and who sacrifices the rest of himself for everyone else. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, there is a boy who dreams, who fights, who cries. There is a boy who risks it all for people who do not believe him. There is a boy who desperately yearns for forgiveness for a crime he did not commit. Once upon a time, there is a boy who grows up to be the man that saves everyone’s life.

***

He drifts, twitching only slightly as the tentacles detach themselves from his body. Nothing registers in him. Not the contemplative, and slightly regretful “so you were telling the truth.” Not the sound of the door to his cell opening. Not the grips of the insurgents as they none too gently, haul him to his prison. Nothing. He feels and yet doesn’t feel. A sort of barrier blocks him from his emotions, as though they’ve been placed into a jar that he can’t open. His rage, a close and trusted companion to him, is gone. Locked away without his consent.

He feels nothing, although his hands shake as he’s thrown to the floor. He senses nothing, not the putrid scent of his new living quarters, nor the sounds from the people outside his door.

He drifts, and a piece of him is lost to the darkness.

***

_“Come on, Bodhi! We’re gonna miss it!” Mohammad exclaims, turning his head to look at Bodhi. Becoming impatient, the young child grabs his best friend’s hand and hurries towards their destination._

_“We’re gonna miss the party! How can the birthday boy miss his own birthday?”_

***

“Are you the pilot?” A ghost of a person whispers, their voice filling the silence in his cell. He twitches once, his eyes opening before falling shut again. Nothing is there, nothing will ever be there for him. There is no pilot. Just as there is no him.

***

_He places his hand against Yusuf’s, the frost in his eyes thawing. His sister squats next to him, placing her hand on their brother’s hair._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “but I’ll be damned if I let anything ever happen to you.” He presses a kiss on his sleeping brother’s forehead and turns to leave._

***

“Listen, listen to my voice. Are you the pilot?” Someone asks, the question ringing some distant part of him. His eyes open, but he sees nothing. Why does the voice keep asking him? He’s nothing?

***

_“It’s our fault,” Asha whispers, her voice as fragile as unwoven silk. Bodhi says nothing, his eyes staring straight ahead as he pulls their sobbing mother into a hug._

***

He drifts again, his mind desperately attempting to piece himself together. None of the pieces fit right, holes as wide as planets remain. Bits and pieces of memories float around him, some of them vanishing into the empty holes he’s desperately attempting to fix. He knows, almost instinctively, that once they enter the void he wouldn’t ever be able to get them out.

He’s there, but _not_ there, standing in front of a cliff, teetering dangerously over the edge of sanity.

***

“Does the name Galen Erso mean anything to you?” The voice asks again, irritation and desperation clear as day. He blinks, desperately clawing towards consciousness. The name rings in his ears, and memories flash into his mind. Something, something _tangible_ finally clicks into place.

Bodhi almost sobs with relief.

“I,” he takes a shuddered breath, his voice hoarse from hours of screaming, “I-yes. He-he’s a scientist.” Memories flit across his mind, too difficult for him to truly decipher but he gets the gist. He knows, he _knows_ and he feels a bit of him relax at that, even as his fingers play incessantly with the cuffs of his uniform.

“I’m the pilot,” he breathes. He looks up, staring at the man whose voice has managed to coax him out of his drifting. Bodhi takes in the man’s face, the way his brown eyes soften just a tad, and the way his lips twitch as though a smile were to bloom. He stares at him for a moment more before looking back down at the ground, missing the way the man frowns before schooling his features.

“I brought the message. I-I was supposed to bring the message. I gave it to him,” Bodhi twitches in his seat, his eyes flickering across the room, wanting to get out, but not knowing where to go. “I’m the pilot.” He finishes, not wanting to acknowledge the hope that’s budding in his chest. His gaze turns towards a shadowy corner of his cell and he flinches hard. The shadows in the corner seem to move, pieces of the wall sliding away and Bodhi closes his eyes and counts to ten.

“I’m the pilot,” he whispers, choking back the sobs that threaten to overwhelm him.

“You’re the pilot,” the man in the other cells says. The certainty with which he says it, takes Bodhi aback. He looks at the man, and loses himself in the calm acceptance that swims in his (too brown, too warm, too _kind_ ) eyes.

“Who are you,” he asks, the question encompassing far too many emotions to be to innocuous.

‘Who are you,’ he thinks, ‘why are you talking to me? Why do you care?’

“I’m Cassian Andor, and you’re Bodhi Rook” Brown Eyes says, his voice kind even as his face hardens, “do you know where we can find Galen Erso?” Bodhi says nothing for a moment, his eyes flittering around his cell and his hands fluttering along the front of his jacket.

“He’s on Eadu,” he says finally, his head tilted forward, “at least, that’s where I saw him last.” He offers up a smile at Brown Eyes (Cassian his mind helpfully supplies), but it’s limp, weak from disuse. Bodhi can’t remember the last time he’d smiled.

“Eadu,” Cassian whispers, nodding his head. He goes to say more but stops. The world around them shakes, debris shifting and crumbling around them. Cassian disappears from the cell window, perhaps looking for a way to escape.

Bodhi remains seated, staring at his cell door as every single insurgent flees, leaving him (and possibly his cell mate) to their death. A part of him hopes they leave him to die. The other part, fueled primarily by sharp, ice-like fear, and desperation, wants someone, anyone to get him out.

He rises slowly; his limbs weighing him down like fifty-ton steel. Moving cautiously, yet deliberately, the young man makes his way to the front of his cell door. He wonders if anyone would hear him if he yelled out for help. He wonders if anyone would care.

Would he if he were in the same position?

More debris falls from the ceiling and the walls slide away. Unbidden, thoughts of purple tentacles and the slimy residue of the monster caressing his face rise to the surface and Bodhi shivers. Closing his eyes, he counts to ten, reminding himself that it wasn’t in the cell with him. That he made it out.

“Move!” A voice shouts, intimidating and furious. Bodhi’s eyes fly open to stare at the gun pulled in his direction.

“No!” He shouts, his body curling in on himself. He cringes at the sound of blaster fire but blinks once when it becomes clear that he hasn’t been hit.

“Come, imperial pilot,” the man says, before turning around and leaving. Bodhi blinks, once, twice, three times, before he follows him out of the prison. He stumbles as he leaves the cell, the room around him twisting and turning. Everything dims for a moment, and all Bodhi can hear is the soft clucking of a monster. He breathes harshly, biting the inside of his lip and flinches as a hand comes into his field of vision.

“Let’s go, pilot,” a man says, a different one than the one that blew up his door. Bodhi stares at the hand offered to him, stands to his full height and nods once, turning towards the exit. He runs out of the door, into the bright Jedha sun and stops.

***

_“NiJedha,” Uncle Arun begins, his voice quiet and captivating, “is holy ground. The Force flows through this place, rich and daunting. It touches everything that you see. Kyber crystals strong and imbued with the Force grow here, blessing us with their beauty. As Jedhans, it is our duty to protect this place, to uphold its sanctity. We are Jedhans, be proud of that.”_

***

Dirt and metal rain from the sky. Black smoke rises as the horizon in front of him is destroyed. Wind almost pushes him to the ground, harsh and unforgiving. He stands there, staring and trying to comprehend what he is seeing.

***

_“It’s a planet killer, Bodhi,” Erso explains, his voice quiet and his eyes searching his own. Bodhi doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring back at the man in front of him._

_“Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Because,” Erso pauses, gathering himself, “because you and everyone else here, me included, made this a reality.” Erso says, his head tilted up. His voice is just shy of accusing and Bodhi clenches his teeth in anger and despair. Fury paints itself all over his face as his eyes spring with tears._

_“You’re responsible, but you can help do something about. You can stop it before it’s too late.” Erso whispers, his hand holding out a device. Bodhi glares up at the man, and with a clench of his teeth, takes the encrypted device._

_“Time is of the essence Bodhi. I suggest hurrying.” Erso tells him by way of a goodbye. They don’t hug, but stare at each other, one traitor to another._

***

“I’m too late,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he takes in the desolation of his home. Lava bursts forth from the center of the planet, bright red and ominous. Rocks fly high into the air, crashing down around him, mirroring the destruction within him. Numbness claws at his limbs, terror and shock freezing his limbs. He stands there, even as the people rush around him, trying to get somewhere safe.

“Come on, Bodhi!” A familiar voice shouts, grabbing his hand and leading him away from the ruined bits that used to be his home. Bodhi finds himself running to keep up with Cassian. A distant part of him howls in agony but it’s largely cut off, kept at bay from the rest of him for the moment. His mind screams, even as his lips remain closed.

Cassian and he fling themselves onto a ship and Bodhi scrambles to get to the window, desperate to keep whatever remains of his home in his sights. All he sees is black and red and he has to force himself to keep the vomit down. His eyes never stray from the window, even as all of his home is engulfed in flames.

He’s twenty-five when NiJedha is destroyed. And a piece of him withers and dies too.


	4. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late! This chapter was difficult to write and I'm still unsure of how it turned out. I re-read all of your comments though, if only to give myself more motivation! Seriously all of your comments were so wonderful. I love them. As always stuffs bad in this chapter. Bodhi deserves a break. Cassian deserves more than what will come at him. Accusations are cast. People are hurt. Everyone's exhausted. Enjoy.

None of them speak as Cassian plunges them into hyperspace, narrowly escaping being swallowed up by the destruction of Jedha. The destruction of his home. Bodhi moves away from the window, his eyes finding a place on the floor. He removes the goggles from his head, places them in his lap and fiddles with them.  
  
“Tell me Baze, all of it?” Someone asks, but Bodhi barely hears them, can barely understand the question. He should feel something, right? Anger? Grief? It feels as though a fundamental part of him is still in that cell, ruined along with his home. He wants to cry but he can’t. Perhaps it’s better this way.    
  
“Yes,” another person snaps. Their tone is hard with steel but thick with suppressed tears. No one says anything again and Bodhi’s half glad. His mind throbs in time with his breathing and he wants nothing more than to lay down and never rise. Exhaustion pulls at his limbs, fills his mouth with cotton and Bodhi wonders what would happen if he just passed out now. He won’t though, if only because he refuses to be weak in front of any of these people. Cassian asks for the coordinates to Eadu and Bodhi gives it to him, barely paying attention.  
  
His hands shake with _something_ but Bodhi has no idea what. He’s numb, body frozen even though his mind refuses to register it. Memories and emotions are tattered, frayed and crumbling like ash and Bodhi wants to reach out to them but he can’t. He wants, he dreams, he hopes. But he can’t. He doesn’t.  
  
Nothing. He feels nothing.  
  
He half registers a person sitting in front of him, vaguely feels their eyes on his face. They say nothing for a minute and Bodhi doesn’t acknowledge them, his eyes on the goggles in his hands.

They twitch as the person comes closer.  
  
“You’re the pilot?” They ask, blunt and to the point. Bodhi nods, once, but doesn’t raise his eyes to look at them.  
  
His fingers run over the soft scratches that litter the frames. How long had he had them? How long has it been since his mother gifted them to him, a promise on her lips and fierce determination in her eyes. How long had it been since he’d seen her?

Too long. And now it is too late.

The person moves closer until they’re in front of him. Bodhi grits his teeth and casually angles his body towards a possible exit. He pretends no one notices the movement, even though he’s sure all of them caught it.

“You knew my father?” They ask again, monotone but with an undercurrent of fear? Hope perhaps. Bodhi looks up and takes in the person speaking to him. He takes in their brown hair and brown eyes, the way their body is ramrod straight, eyes never straying from his own. He takes in the way they speak, clipped and concise, very much like their father.

He’s still able to notice things. How wonderful.

“You’re Galen Erso’s kid,” he rasps, voice shredded from the hours of screaming he’d done previously. His wince is minute, barely a ripple across his features, but he knows every single person on the ship has caught it. Shame and frustration tug at his stomach but he bats them away.

He fails.

“His daughter. My name is Jyn, Jyn Erso,” she confirms, mouth twisted into half of a smile. His smile is just as warm, in that it’s not at all. He wonders what it is she wants from him. Empathy? A person to speak to about her father? To find someone who loves and cares for him like she no doubt does?

He doesn’t speak, mouth closed even as his mind screams. He _hates_ Galen Erso. He’s sure; hates the man who’d been able to see him, see his rage and despair, his desperation and understanding, hates the way the man had been able to twist his fears, his grief to suit his needs. Bodhi hates him.

He hates that he doesn’t hate him as much as he wants to.

His hands tap on the glass of his goggles, a staccato beat that, within minutes, transforms into something familiar. In the corner of his eye, Bodhi sees one of the men sit up and stare at him. He doesn’t dwell on it.

“How long did you know him?” Jyn asks, her voice a complicated mess of emotions that Bodhi has little hope of deciphering.

“Not too long, a couple of months really.”

“And he trusted you to deliver the message.” She says it as a statement, but Bodhi can hear the confusion, the incredulous tone that colors the sentence. He knows what she’s thinking, knows that she’s trying to work out what it is about him that made Galen Erso choose him out of anyone else. He smiles, although it’s hollow, a simple pull of the lips.

“You live long enough with the Empire, you learn who’s there because they need a job, and who’s there because they _believe_. In the end, though, we’re all the same.” It’s quiet for a second, until she speaks again.

“Are you? All the same?” He doesn’t smile, merely stares at her for a second too long, only turning away when she shows signs of being uncomfortable.

“We’re all monsters at the end of the day, doesn’t matter whether you’re there because you have to be, or if you’re there because you want to be.” He keeps talking, blowing past their uncomfortable silence. His voice rises in pitch, even as his face remains expressionless. Fingers continue to drum against his goggles, going faster and faster as he talks. And fuck? Why can’t he stop? “Erso told me that this could be stopped if I did something, delivered a message to Gerrera. I guess I was too late.” He’d been too late. NiJedha, his _home_ , is destroyed, crumbled to ashes with one push of a button. If he’d been faster, maybe something would’ve changed. If he’d convinced Gerrera, maybe Jedha would still be standing. But he didn’t and everyone else paid the price.

Bodhi closes his eyes. He should feel something, something more than empty, nothing. He hums softly, not caring that everyone in the ship hears him. The melody he’s humming is old; a song passed down from generation to generation. It’s haunting and painful, tugging at something within him.

Bodhi wants to feel something but he doesn’t, wonders if he ever could. He stops humming.

“You’re not too late!” She hisses fervently. Bodhi doesn’t open his eyes.

“Seems pretty late to me,” someone else says, rage and disgust coloring their tone. Bodhi nods his head in agreement. A smile tugs at his lips, although its ugly, rough and emotionless. It’s rests uneasy on his face and he stops a second later. No one notices. He blinks as Jyn rises in one fluid motion, agitation painted across her face.

“It’s not too late!” She hisses, all sharp angles and serrated edges. She explains Erso’s plan, tries to get them to understand that there’s hope. But it rings hallow, too many unanswered questions, too little evidence.

Bodhi desperately wishes he could give it to her, desperately wishes he could offer more than stony silence and threadbare acknowledgements.

“Did you look at it?” Cassian asks and Bodhi can hear the hope, the desperate _need_ for something to go right, but he can’t offer him anything.

He shakes his head and pretends he doesn’t see the man’s shoulders droop.

 

***

 

They land on Eadu and Bodhi tilts his head to the side as Cassian throws a parka in his direction.

“You’re coming with me,” the man says and Bodhi nods once, throwing a glance at the weapon in the man’s hand. He knows what it is, but Bodhi doesn’t say anything, not yet at least.

The walk up the mountain is difficult, his body screams with exhaustion and pain and Bodhi can barely stand upright, much less hike up a mountain. He still tries though, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. By the thirteenth time he’s tripped (he counted, if only to give his mind something to do) they stop, Cassian’s hand on his back the only thing keeping him from swaying slightly with the wind.

“How long were you with Gerrera?” Cassian asks, and Bodhi takes a second to squint at him.

‘Why do you care?’ He finds himself thinking again. Why does this man care about what happens to him, why does he ask too many questions? _Why does he keep looking at him with such honest concern?_

Bodhi takes too long to answer and Cassian steps closer to him, his face impassive but his eyes…His eyes are too open, too honest, too _concerned_ and Bodhi takes half a step back, needing to put space between them.

“A while,” he manages to choke out, although both know it’s much more than that. He’d been with Gerrera long enough for the man to rip every single piece of him from the inside out and leave him shattered, barely cognizant of the things happening around him.

“Must’ve been a helluva long time,” Cassian says, his voice hushed, filled with so many emotions that Bodhi can barely wrap his head around them.

“Yeah,” he breathes, staring at impossibly warm brown eyes, “it was a long time.” They stand that for a second, or maybe it’s a minute. Bodhi can’t exactly tell. Time hasn’t exactly made much sense to him, not since he’d been strapped in the chair and left alone with a purple monster. It’d become abstract, something that doesn’t exactly feel real to him. They could’ve been standing there, staring at each other for a second, a minute, hours and Bodhi wouldn’t notice.

Cassian’s the one that breaks eye contact, clearing his throat and resuming their trek up the mountain. Bodhi finds himself missing the eye contact.

The hand on his back stays there until they reach their destination. Bodhi tries not to think about loss of warmth as the man crouches down in the wet soil next to him, tries not to think about the way the hand lingered. He forces his mind to stay in the moment even as it attempts to wander away from him.

“Head back down to the mountain,” Cassian orders, placing his weapon on the ground and looking through the lens at Erso’s unsuspecting form.

“What?”

“You heard me, go back down and help K2 with the ship.” Cassian orders, voice firm and gaze ahead. He doesn’t turn to look at him and Bodhi feels _something_ trickle down his spine.

“I thought we were just taking a look?”

“We are,” Cassian clicks his tongue, “ _I_ am. You’re going to go back down there.”

“And if I don’t? What is it that you don’t want me to see?” And when Cassian doesn’t respond, Bodhi continues, the words burning like acid as they escape his mouth, “You killing him?” He flinches as Cassian rises in one fluid motion and presses their faces together. Rain cascades down the man’s face, but it does nothing to detract from his eyes. Regret, irritation and sorrow swallow up brown irises; sharp and vulnerable behind a mask of hardened resolve. It’s heartbreaking and beautiful and Bodhi can’t help the soft gasp that escapes his mouth. His face remains impassive, mouth closed in a firm line but Bodhi can _see_ , even with his mind the way it is, he can _tell_.

He’d always been good at noticing what people don’t want noticed.

“Go back down to K2, Bodhi,” he pauses for a second, and Bodhi can’t help but notice the tongue darting out of his mouth, wetting his lips, “please,” he whispers. Neither of them say anything, both too close to the other but not close enough. Bodhi’s hand twitches and he wonders if it’d be okay for him to raise it, to push some of the hair that sticks to Cassian’s forehead, back. He doesn’t though, they remain still by his side and he breathes, letting the crisp air of Eadu fill his senses.

“Your orders were to kill him.” He says it as a statement, continuing when Cassian doesn’t give an outward reaction. “Will I also die by your hand, Captain?” Cassian flinches back and Bodhi can practically _feel_ the disbelief and hurt the question caused him. He almost takes it back, but he can’t stop now, can’t stop the words that are coming out of his mouth, bone deep exhaustion and aching numbness propelling him to say his piece and be done with it.

“I’m not judging you, Cassian. You have orders and you need to follow them. Just…whenever the rebellion decides that I’m no longer of use, I’d really like it if you shot me from the front as opposed to behind.” Lips curl on his face, although it’s too sharp to be called a grin, too empty and unbalanced to be a smile.

‘This is war,” he thinks as he leaves Cassian’s frozen figure at the top of the mountain. ‘And in war you have to do things you may not want to do. For the greater good.’ Bodhi chances a look back, unable to discern Cassian’s form from the jagged rocks at the top of the mountain. He turns to stare ahead of him. His piece had been said, accusations cast and Bodhi wants to feel something.

All he feels is the frozen rain that pelts his frame.

 

***

 

He comes to a wreckage, their U-Wing on fire and ready to explode.  Gritting his teeth with annoyance? Anger? Bodhi moves towards the droid and the two of them hurry away. Bodhi stumbles, his legs shaking with overexertion. He chuckles softly, even though nothing’s funny about their situation.

He still laughs, if only because it feels like the only thing he can do. It comes out hallow.

“Would you like me to carry you?” K2 asks, observing Bodhi’s slightly shaking form.

“No,” he snaps, and then softer, his hands fluttering along the front of his suit, “no, I’m okay. Thank you.” He rises from his crouched position, forcing himself to continue even as his vision darkens slightly.

Had the world always been slightly tilted?

“I could still carry you,” K2 continues, easily keeping up with Bodhi’s shaky walk, “that way you wouldn’t have to choose.” It’s helpful, if not grating, and Bodhi can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.

“No, listen. For this to work, I have to actually be walking with you behind me. That way we blend in. Imperial uniforms, imperial workers.” Bodhi shrugs and continues to walk, making three steps before he stumbles again. Tears gather in his eyes and Bodhi mentally screams at himself to keep going.

“Your entire demeanor doesn’t really inspire confidence.” The droid says, eyes peering down at Bodhi’s wobbly gait.

“You have to trust me,” Bodhi explains, even though that’s worst thing he could have said. Who would trust someone they didn’t even know?

‘You trusted Erso,’ his mind hisses and Bodhi pushes the thought away so roughly he wonders how he’s able to stay standing.

The droid stares at him, managing to convey incredulousness and humor without any expression. Bodhi clenches his teeth and huffs. They didn’t have time for this.

“Listen, we’re were once both a part of this,” he gestures around them as they walk, “both of us were once machines of the Empire. Until Cassian came for you and reprogrammed you. You’re loyal to him. An-And Erso reprogrammed me. Made me see that I’m more than I really am.”

“Did he?”

“What?” K2 stares at him and doesn’t speak for a second. Bodhi wonders if he’d spoke at all.

“Did he really reprogram you? Or did you do it yourself?” Bodhi doesn’t answer, has no answer. K2 nods his head, as though confirming something to himself.

“Alright then,” K2 says placing a metal hand on Bodhi’s shoulder and Bodhi feels something almost like affection fill his chest.

He pays it little attention and makes his way towards the shuttle port’s bright lights.

 

***

 

_“You know if you keep doing that you’re going to have an infestation.” His mother says, although she doesn’t sound mad at all. Instead she crouches next to him and grabs bits of the roti in his hands and sets it in front of the rat. It blinks up at her and Bodhi swears the smile that lights up her face could rival even the largest star. He grins back at her, his missing teeth prominent._

_“Everyone deserves a life momma,” he says, with all of the conviction of a four-year-old._

_“Who told you that?” His mother asks, rising slowly from her crouched position. She laughs softly at the way her knees crack; Bodhi giggles with her._

_“Everyone deserves a life momma,” he repeats, staring up at the sky, “everyone knows that.”_

 

***

 

He’s the one who sees Cassian and Jyn on the edge of the cliff, surrounded by Stormtroopers and he doesn’t think much about it as he uses the laser canons, blasting the Stormtroopers.

“Congratulations,” K2 says, “you’re a rebel now.” And Bodhi spares a grin at the droid, a rushed “thanks” leaving him as he heads to the ramp, waving Cassian and Jyn down. The two enter and Bodhi’s still grinning, unable to stop. He goes to say something, but sees the look on Jyn’s face: molten fury, and bone crushing grief, and stops. His smile drops from his face like water. He looks past them and sees Chirrut and Baze heading towards them, waits for them to enter before shouting at K2 to go. 

Bodhi turns to look at Cassian, unsurprised at the measured look the man gives him. They stare at each other for a while, time slowing down like it did at the top of the mountain. Cassian’s face is smooth like midnight velvet, but his eyes...They’re rough, emotion crashing like waves behind brown orbs.

Bodhi closes his eyes and sends out a soft prayer. He wants to feel something, something more than the black hole that grows in his chest.

But he feels nothing and he wonders if it’s better this way.

 


End file.
